Castolo, then about ten years of age, most pleased me, and I asked him, among other things, whether he could read and write.

His father answered for him, that he could not read or write; that the opportunities were not good; but that he believed Castolo _could_ learn, that he had a good mind.

At this point the mother spoke to her husband in Zapotec.

Some argument ensued, in which at last she triumphed.
Turning to me, the man said: "She says you may have Castolo; you may take him to your country and there he can learn to read and write and whatever else you wish." It was not altogether easy to refuse this gift; finally I replied that we had a long journey ahead and that Castolo would weary on the road; that he had better wait until some later time.
It was now time for the family to dispose of itself for the night.

I was already in the hammock and Ernst had one of the pole-beds; the man, his wife, and little Federico occupied the other bed; the little girl and the three older boys climbed, by a notched log, up to a loft constructed of poles or canes on which they laid themselves down.